


The Queen of Monsters: A Percy Jackson AU

by K1ngtok1



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Caring Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Being an Idiot, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Has ADHD, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is a Good Friend, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders-centric, Drakon - Freeform, Dyslexia, Idk what else to tell you man, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Being an Idiot, Logic | Logan Sanders Has ADHD, Logic | Logan Sanders Has Terrible Parents, Logic | Logan Sanders Is A Good Friend, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, M/M, Monsters, Nonbinary Logic | Logan Sanders, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slow Burn, Trans Logic | Logan Sanders, i don't know what i'm doing anymore, its a Percy Jackson au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K1ngtok1/pseuds/K1ngtok1
Summary: If you’re reading this because you think it’s fiction, because you think this is just another story, go on. Learn the history, battles waged, and all that these children have lost on a journey recounted for your entertainment. View it through your narrow lens and pray to the gods that you don’t see yourself in this work, that you’re just a regular mortal reading some silly fanfiction. You’d be one of the lucky ones.But if you begin to feel something, a stirring inside telling you that you fit between these pages, that you belong beside the broken heroes you are about to read about? Log off. Close your browser and pray to whatever deity you worship that they haven’t found you yet, because it’s only a matter of time before they do.You have been warned.~Roman Herrero and Logan Cato have been best friends since freshman year, but when a monster turns up at Roman's house and destroys the only home they've ever known, will friendship alone be enough to keep them safe?(You do not need to know anything about Percy Jackson for this to make sense)
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, I haven't decided - Relationship
Comments: 26
Kudos: 46





	The Queen of Monsters: A Percy Jackson AU

Roman’s day had been ordinary so far.

Roman was fiddling with a broken pen on his bed, ignoring any homework he still had to do. It would be fine, he could do it later, he always managed to scramble to get it done in time. Logan said that wasn’t a very good idea, but what did Logan know? ( _A lot,_ his brain supplied, _Logan knows a lot_ ). All that mattered was finding a way to get the ink cartridge to shoot out of the pen casing like a mini spring-powered cannon, responsibilities came after.

  
Roman had zoned out, shoving the spring into the casing in different ways. After a few minutes, he finally pulled back on the ink cartridge, releasing his thumb to let it soar across the room towards the wall.

Unfortunately, his best friend chose that moment to stick his head through the window.

“ _Ow!_ ” Logan winced, rubbing the small blue ink dot on his forehead, “Watch where you’re shooting that thing,” He scowled, hopping through the window and landing on Roman’s bed, causing the mattress to shake. 

Logan Cato had been Roman‘s best friend since they got paired together for a science project back in freshman year. Roman had been the first person he came out as non-binary to. Tall with steely grey eyes, dark brown, almost black fluffy hair that flopped over to one side, and tan skin, Logan looked like someone took the words ‘punk’ and ‘nerd’ and shoved them into a person, with the resting bitch face to match. 

  
Logan swung a duffel bag off of his shoulder, placing it next to him at the foot of the bed and leaning against it. The bag meant that Logan was staying the night, not like it was an uncommon occurrence, he stayed over a lot.

“You should watch where you put your face,” Roman fired back with a grin while reaching over to pick up the ink cartridge from where it had fallen on the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Logan rolled his eyes, but nonetheless nudged the ink cartridge closer to the other with his foot, “Why do you even like making those so much? Most of the time it just ends up hitting me in the head,” he had the ink marks to prove it.

Roman shrugged, “So I can hit you in the head with it,” Truth was, he had always found joy in making things. Roman would take parts from pens and mechanical pencils and make the most amazing contraptions, which got him in trouble a lot in school. It just felt...invigorating, making something new from something else, and it’s not like he had access to many other sources of materials, his dad wouldn’t let him go into his shop on the other side of town, for some absurd reason. So, pen canons it was.

“...would you stop if I asked politely?”

“Nope,” Roman answered with a bright smile, popping the ‘p’, before returning to the pen he was fiddling with, placing the ink cartridge back into the casing.

“I figured as much,”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Roman messing around more with his pen and Logan thumbing at one of the patches on his jacket, one he had gotten from Roman last Christmas, which said ‘You’re going to rattle the stars one day, you are!’ from one of the disney movies they both enjoyed. Logan had a signature look, every day he wore the same blue tie and dark blue jean jacket that he decorated with patches and pins that he found he liked. It shouldn’t have worked, two opposing styles mixed together in the bundle of madness that was his friend, but it did.

  
At the time, though, Logan had the sleeves rolled down, uncuffed. Usually, the older had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he said it made it easier to do things without them getting dirty. But when the sleeves were down… that wasn’t a good sign.

“...Rough day?” Roman asked hesitantly. He knew it wasn’t any of his business, but he couldn’t help but be concerned for his friend. 

Logan sighed, pulling a knee to his chest and leaning his arm on it as he stared wistfully out the window. Roman couldn’t tell what was running through his head, he was unreadable, “...Amy was drunk when I got home,” he said softly, finally turning his head towards Roman, though his eyes remained downcast.

  
Logan admittedly didn’t have a good home life, if that hellhole of a house could be called ‘ _home_ ’. Amy was Logan’s asshole foster mom. She was an angel when CPS was around, but when they were gone, she couldn’t be less angelic. Logan barely talked about what she did to him, but there was more than one instance of them both in the bathroom, Logan sitting on the closed toilet as Roman treated welts conveniently shaped like fingers that wrapped around his wrists. Roman nodded, not asking anything else about it. Logan would let him know if he needed help, he trusted the other’s judgement of his own health.

The shorter one stood up from the bed, throwing the pen carcass on to the comforter and holding a hand out to his friend, “C’mon, dad baked some scones the other day and we bought some crofters for you,” it was Logan’s comfort food. More than once had he been seen shoveling his face full of it when finals rolled around. Roman liked it too, which was surprising, considering he wasn’t much of a jelly guy. He usually preferred Nutella.

He could see the way Logan’s eyes lit up at the statement, a little bit of light being added to the faint grey, making them glow like stars in the moonlight (Roman wondered where that thought came from). He grabbed Roman’s hand with a small smile, “What are we waiting for then?,” he asked, pulling himself up, before all but rushing out of the room and down the stairs, his boots _thump thump thump_ -ing with each footstep. Roman followed with a chuckle, Logan certainly did like his jam.

  
Logan was already grabbing a knife and plate from the cabinet by the time Roman got there. He could see his dad typing away on his laptop at the kitchen table, an untouched cup of coffee resting on a coaster beside him. Romulus Herrero was a well known artisan in this part of the country, creating things like glassware, ceramics and forged items of all kinds. Roman was almost a carbon copy of him, with the same curly brown hair, brown skin and hazel eyes. Roman was just shorter and missing the beard and coke-bottle glasses. 

  
Roman’s dad was great, taking as much time off from his job as he could to spend time with his son and his friend. The teen waved, getting a short nod and smile from his dad, before making his way into the kitchen to get some snacks before Logan stole them all. He pulled out a few scones from the Tupperware they kept them in, grabbing a plate for himself and sitting down at the counter. Logan soon joined him with jam in hand, almost pouring half the jar out onto his pastries, much to Roman’s disapproval.

“Hey! Leave some for me,” he reached up to snatch the jar from Logan, but unfortunately, Logan was tall, and to make it even worse, Roman was short. Curse Logan and his stupid tall nerd arms.

“Relax, I’m not going to take all of it,” the taller said with a smirk, as he let another glob fall to the plate with a loud splat. He finally handed the jar off, “There, now you can have it,”

He was technically right, he didn't take all of it, but when Roman went to scoop some out, he could see Logan took a whopping 75% of the jar. Roman scooped out what was left, glaring at Logan, who just sat there with a smug jam and crumb covered grin. Roman would allow it, only because he deeply cared for his best friend and Logan probably needed this small victory, but he was on thin ice.

The two of them sat in silence after that, the only noises to be heard being the almost constant clacking of Romulus’ keyboard and the occasional sigh. The conversation drifted in and out, with his dad piping up occasionally before clacking away once more. It was peaceful. 

_Thump_

Roman almost didn’t hear it for a moment, such a faint noise against the quiet conversation they were having. It was probably nothing, though.

_Thump_

This time, he paused, looking out the window in confusion, leaving Logan’s mini-rant about space to fall upon deaf ears. Was there construction nearby? Neighbors?

_Thump_

“...does anyone else hear that?” He asked hesitantly. He could almost feel it, how the noise just barely shook the very earth beneath him. The countertop his arm was resting on vibrated almost imperceptively. Something strange was going on...but what?

Logan stopped at his question, pausing for a moment. Romulus looked up from his computer.

**_Thump_ **

  
“...the hell?” Logan stood up with a look of confusion, moving over to the window above the sink. As far as Roman could see from his position at the counter, everything was perfectly normal. The backyard was covered in the same dying grass as always, and the standard, pointed wood fence stood tall as a barrier between them and the other houses. But when Roman went to look over at his dad... he was scared. There was a nervous, almost panicked look on his face, and that made Roman anxious. His dad was a usually very fearless man (except when it came to clowns, he thought clowns were “The makings of the satan sent up to torture humankind,” and that they “Should be destroyed at all costs,”), and if Romulus was scared…

“Dad?” Roman stood up, pushing away from the counter, “Dad, what’s wrong?”

**_Thump_ **

He seemed to have been shocked out of his thoughts when Roman spoke, flinching a bit before readjusting his glasses and clearing his throat, seemingly trying to regain his composure, “N-Nothing, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about-”

**_Thump_ **

**_Thump_ **

“Guys?”

**_THUMP_ **

When Roman whipped around to ask Logan what was wrong, he froze.

Logan was slowly backing away from the window, moving back one foot at a time, and Roman could almost see the battle in his eyes behind his expression of terror, debating whether to flee or attack, fight or flight. His hands were flexing as he stepped back, as if longing to grab ahold of something and throw it at whatever he was so scared of. 

And then Roman saw it.

He saw glimpses of scales, shining dimly with the sun's fading light as they slipped past the window. He saw teeth, as long as his arm, poking out of a horrible maw, dripping what looked like sickly, green drool. He could hear the dragging of talons through the gravel outside, rocks tumbling over each other and crumbling under a heavy weight. He saw a large, yellow, slitted eye like that of a snake, peering through the window right at him. 

"...what-?"

Before he could get another word out, the beast roared, ramming its head into the glass and sending shards all around the room. Logan dived out of the way of the falling shards, ramming towards Roman and tackling him to the ground, which the latter was going to complain about until he saw _something_ soar above them. It looked like a ball of what he had seen dripping from the monster’s muzzle a moment before, and the smell alone was enough to make him sick to his stomach. Roman turned in Logan’s grip to see it connect with the wall and hear the glob sizzle as it melted through the layers of paint, plaster, and wood like cotton candy dissolving in water, taking some of the framed pictures and drawing hung up with it. Logan hauled Roman to his feet, shouting a quick “C’mon!” as they bolted up the stairs, Romulus followed right behind them.

As they ran, the monster wormed its serpentine-like body through where the window once was, breaking the sink’s faucet and causing water to spray everywhere as it roared in fury. Roman hadn’t been this scared in a long, _long_ time. Pure adrenaline coursed through his veins as he slammed the door to the master bedroom shut. He could still hear it. He could still hear the beast roaring its terrible roar as it smashed apart the first floor looking for them. 

  
He turned to see his dad rushing around the room, muttering to himself as if he had lost something, but Roman couldn’t think of what would be so important as to find it while there was a _dragon_ downstairs. Speaking of which-

  
  
“What the _fuck_ was that?!” Logan exclaimed, not even bothering to mind his language around Roman’s dad. He stood next to Roman by the door, a hand clenched into a fist at his side as he gestured towards the door with the other, looking like he was ready to go fight the monster downstairs himself, “A fucking _dragon_ just shows up _out of nowhere-_ ”

“Drakon,”

Both of the teenager’s heads snapped towards Romulus, who was now turned towards them with a small, silver box in his hands, and a solemn look on his face as he stared down at the object, “That, boys...is a drakon. A fearsome, almost indestructible greek monster,” he said in a low voice, shaking with terror just as his hands were. He said this as if it cleared everything up, as if it explained what the beast was doing downstairs, as if it explained how exactly he knew about the monster.

“How-” Roman was once again unable to get another word in as Romulus walked forward, speaking urgently.

“We don’t have much time,” he stated suddenly, leaning down and pressing the box into Roman’s hands with care, like it would shatter if the boy held it wrong, “Your father wanted you to have this, I don’t know what it is though,”

  
Roman turned the box over in his hands. It was about the size of his palm, colored with gleaming silver and iron plating. It had no lid, no opening or keyhole, just a peculiar cog-like pattering on the outside. He didn’t know how, but somehow he could tell there was machinery inside.

  
“He said you would know what to do when the time came,” his father said softly, before standing straight once again and rushing over to his nightstand, “You need to go to New York. Take the bus, look for camp… they’ll help you,” he seemed to be deadly serious, despite the nonsense that was coming out of his mouth. Romulus took a wad of cash out of the drawer, mostly composed of crumpled one dollar bills, and shoved it into Logan’s hands this time.

“Sir-”

“I should have sent you there a long time ago. I was selfish, I-I just wanted more _time_ ,” he spoke over Logan, grabbing ahold of the eldest’s shoulders and speaking in a fearful tone, “Promise me… Promise me you’ll take care of my boy,” he sounded desperate, like any moment now the world could end, and he wouldn’t be able to say what he needed to.

A moment passed before Logan answered, Roman could hear the monster (drakon, he recalled) roaring downstairs, getting more impatient with every moment that passed, “Y-Yes sir,” Logan looked nervous, more so at how Romulus’ actions and desperation than the drakon, “I… I will,” Roman could almost hear the quiver in his voice, usually so calm and collected. To hear Logan not angry, shouting out against the thing that might have filled him with fear, but _frightened?_ Roman didn’t know what to do.

Romulus sighed, and Roman could see some of the tension melting off of him, “Good...that’s good,” He let go of Logan who took a step back and untensed, shoving the money in his jacket pocket. Roman’s dad then walked over to the other teen, not hesitating to wrap his arms around his son in a warm and comforting embrace, “I love you, Roman,” he whispered as the teenager relaxed into the hug, “Don’t you ever forget that,” 

“I-I love you too, dad,” Roman hugged him back, wondering why he phrased it like that, almost as if he would never be able to say it again. 

After a moment, Romulus pulled away from the hug, his expression smoothing over into something deadly serious as he spoke in a commanding tone, “I’m going to distract it, you two run like hell. Don’t look into its eyes, it’ll paralyze you,” he moved over to his closet, digging through it like he was once again looking for something, “No matter what happens, run and don’t look back.”

“But-” what about him? What made his dad think he could take on the acid-spitting monster downstairs?

“Go!” 

Logan grabbed Roman’s arm, tugging him lightly in the direction of the door, “Let’s go,” Logan was right, they had to leave. The drakon’s roars were getting louder by the second, and Roman could almost feel it’s thundering footsteps echoing throughout the building. Roman’s last look at his father was him kneeled to the ground, pulling something gleaming bronze out of what looked to be a guitar case, a determined look on his face.

  
The two teenagers managed to cross the hall into Roman’s room without attracting the attention of the monster, which seemed to be scouring through their trash like a raccoon the size of a small bus. Without another word, they climbed onto Roman’s bed and jumped out the window onto the tree Logan used to get in.

Before they left the driveway, Roman risked one last glance back at the house he had grown up in, back at the only home he had ever known. He peered through the windows and…

  
  
_Was that a sword in his dad’s hands?_

“We need to go, Roman,” Logan grabbed his friend’s hand tightly in his own, tugging the other away as he watched his father, nothing more than a skilled artisan, swing the bronze, leaf-shaped blade around like he was born with it in his hands against the fearsome drakon. Roman can’t leave him alone in there.

“But-!” 

“ _Now!”_

  
  
With one final tug, Roman turned from his home, following Logan as they ran down the street. They were only a block or so away when Roman could hear the rumble of the drakon’s roar, accompanied by the crashing of his house falling apart. Yet he kept running, just like his dad told him to. He kept running, pulling ahead of Logan as they raced towards the nearest bus stop. He kept running, no matter how much his legs ached or his lungs screamed for air. It was all he could do.  
  


All he could do was run.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
It was about an hour or so later that the duo found themselves situated under the small roof of the bus stop as rain poured down around them. Roman didn’t know when it started raining, it just happened, he was too busy staring down at the little box in his hands, the last little bit of _home_ he still had with him (other than his clothes, though, those didn’t count). He traced his fingers over the grooves in the metal, stark fire and gear patterns that in no way should look that good together, yet they did. Roman tried not to wonder about how exactly his dad had this, and what did he mean he got it from Roman’s father? He had never known his other dad, Romulus had said he died when Roman was just a baby, but he had heard stories. Stories of a hearty laugh and an eye for detail. Stories of a burly man with a beard large enough to fill a room.  
  
Roman smiled at the thought, his dad seemed fond of the guy, fond enough at least to have a kid with him. He never actually told Roman how he was made, if there was a surrogate or if he was adopted. When he had asked, Romulus had moved his hands like a rainbow and whispered, “ _Magic_ ,” (with everything happening, he was starting to wonder if that was actually true).  
  
At the thought of his dad, though… his smile fell. He had stayed behind, and...and there was a good chance Roman would never see him again. Roman felt apathetic, though he _knew_ he should be grieving, or at least _sad_. But he just couldn’t imagine it being true. How could his dad be gone if he was there yesterday, humming away as he baked scones for when Logan would inevitably come over. How could he be gone if all the memories of him in Roman’s mind were filled with such life?

  
  
Roman was shaken out of his thoughts by Logan’s voice asking him a question, “Can you read this thing?” 

  
Logan was staring up at the map plastered on the wall of the bus stop, his eyes tracing over the colorful lines and symbols on it, lingering on the tiny words scrawled out beside the symbols on the key. His eyebrows were knit together in frustration, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown as he held his hand in his chin in a classic thinking pose. 

“Why do you need _my_ help?” Logan was the smart one, if anyone could figure it out, it was him.

Logan’s voice wavered slightly as he spoke, sighing frustratedly as he turned to face Roman, “I’m _dyslexic_ , remember?” He gestured to his eyes, hidden behind coke-bottle glasses, as if that would help to remind Roman of his problem.

Roman immediately felt guilty, “Right, sorry,” For how Logan soaked up information like a spunge, it was hard to remember sometimes that his best friend had a hard time reading. It frustrated the other, how he loved to learn but had almost no access to sources he could use. Roman knew from experience how ADHD made it hard to focus on things that mattered, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like having to manage swirling words and numbers as well. Roman was concerned with how Logan’s voice shook, though. That almost never happened, “Are...Are you oka-?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay! _”_ Roman was taken aback by how Logan suddenly interjected, interrupting his question as the other moved away from the map and started to pace back and forth on the small piece of sidewalk that was sheltered from the pouring rain, moving his hands expressively as he ranted in a wavering voice that let Roman know just how wound up his companion was, “We just got attacked by a greek dragon-”

“Drakon,”

Logan didn’t even acknowledge his interruption, nor when Roman stood up and slowly moved closer to his frantic friend. “-your dad stayed behind to distract it, and I’m just trying to figure out this _fucking map_ so I can you get on a _damn bus_ to _New York_ because we don’t have any information other than what your dad gave us _and I refuse to fail him and let you get hurt and-”_

  
  
_“Logan!”_

He paused at Roman’s shout, looking up at the other with his hands loosely gripping his hair, which was messed up from how much he had run his hands through it. Up close, the shorter could see the wild, stressed look in his stormcloud-grey eyes, shining in the dim light as if he were about to cry. He might be, Logan was always a frustrated crier, and Roman knew how much he hated it. He could see how Logan looked down at him, and for the first time in a very long while, he could see how uncertain the other was, how he looked down at Roman as if he looked hard enough, he would find the answer he was looking for. Anxiety wasn’t a good look on Logan, Roman then decided.

In that moment, the only sounds were those of the rain pouring down around them and Logan’s heavy breathing as he seemingly tried to calm down after his outburst, his eyes flicking to look anywhere except for into his friends.

  
Roman broke the silence with a sigh, reaching up to softly grasp Logan’s hands and bring them away from his head. Then, he did what little he could to comfort the other: he wrapped his arms around Logan and tucked his head into his chest, squeezing Logan in a tight hug and getting not much more than a light, shuddery gasp in return.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Roman tried to ignore how one of Logan’s pins was scratching his face, or how Logan somehow managed to smell like pen ink and steel, two scents that had no business smelling good together, despite not having been around either in hours. Or how Logan’s heartbeat started to slow down as soon as Roman grabbed ahold of him.

Logan’s arms soon were wrapped around Roman’s back, though not gripping as tightly as the shorter’s were, “I...It’s alright, Roman,” he spoke softly, though Roman could feel how his chest vibrated with every word spoken, “I apologize for my outburst,”

Roman pulled his head away from Logan’s chest, looking up at him, “You don’t have to apologize, Lo,” Roman hadn’t realized how stressed he was. The hispanic had tried to take everything in stride, but he had always been the more adaptable of the two. Roman knew much about his friend, and he knew that Logan hated being thrown around, he hated not knowing, not having answers when he needed them. Roman couldn’t imagine a situation the other was more ill-equipped for, “Do you still want help with the map?”

“Please,”  
  
  


* * *

  
  


It was maybe thirty minutes later that the correct bus pulled up. 

The rain hadn’t let up at all, and it had only gotten darker as time went on. Roman felt Logan gently nudge him with his shoulder, pulling the younger from his train of thought, filled with thoughts about everything that had happened that day, and the distressed look on Logan’s face earlier. 

  
“C’mon,” Logan spoke softly, as if not to break the...not calm, but uneventful silence that they had been sharing, filled only with the sound of dripping rain and the occasional car that would splash through the puddles on the street. He stood up from where he sat down next to Roman on the little bench and reached a hand down to help his friend up, “Let’s get you to New York,”

Roman was a bit miffed about how he phrased it, get _him_ to New York, as if that monster hadn’t tried to attack the other was well, but he elected to ignore that for the time being, grabbing the other’s hand and hauling himself up, “Y’think we’ll have enough money left to go see a Broadway musical when we get there?” he asked with a small smile. It felt nice to joke, he didn’t know how much he took the simple pleasure that humor brought for granted.

There was a small snort beside him, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a way to get yourself in one, after we find…” Logan trailed off.

_After we find camp._

Roman could hear the unspoken words in his sentence. They still had no clue what this _camp_ was, and no idea how to find it. It’s not like they could really look it up, neither of them had phones and the home computer was trapped under a pile of rubble.

  
Roman gave a squeeze to Logan’s hand, bringing them down to rest between them as they walked through the rain to the bus’ awaiting doors, “Everything’s going to okay, Lo,” it had to be. They had to get through this.

If the rain had been any lighter, he would have heard the small, “ _Will it?”_ that left Logan’s lips like a sigh.

They stepped onto the bus, Roman shivering slightly from the rain that settled on his skin as Logan paid their fares. The bus driver, an older woman with a mop of red hair that reached down to her mid back, gave them a suspicious look, as if she didn’t trust the teengers at all, before allowing them to move on. There was only one other person on the bus, so the two were able to choose wherever they wanted to sit.

  
They settled into one of the rows towards the back, Logan moving in first so he could sit next to the window as Roman took the seat next to him. He couldn’t help but notice how they were still holding hands, not that it mattered, it just stood out to him, that’s all. He leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder, closing his eyes and trying to get closer to the other, who somehow managed to be warm, which was in _no_ way fair. Roman started to drift off, tired after the stressful and adrenaline-packed day they were forced to live through. 

  
But a moment later, Roman was being moved, a noise of disapproval leaving his lips as he peaked open his eyes to see Logan shimmying around, having finally let go of Roman’s hand so he could pull his arms out of his jean jacket. Roman looked at him in sleepy confusion, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy, “Whatcha doin’?”

Logan managed to pull the garment off in the small space, before settling back down, “You’re cold,” His voice was soft and concerned as he draped the jacket over Roman, who once again leaned back over onto Logan, and a slight heat to his face that he was confused as to how it got there. It was probably from the sudden warmth the soft inside of the jacket provided. Yeah.

“Thanks,” It was...really nice of him, though Roman was still a bit confused. Logan rarely ever shed his jacket, much less give it to someone else. So what was different now?

  
Roman decided that was a question for another time. His last view before he dozed off was of Logan staring out the window, his chin resting on his hand, which had a faint purple bruise wrapping around the wrist, as he watched the water droplets trail down the window against a murky background of green and grey while the bus slowly started to move down the road.

_Pretty_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading this! It's my first chaptered fic, and I'm really excited to see where it goes! Please leave a comment on anything that stood out to you or anything I could improve on! 
> 
> -King


End file.
